


On the Rooftop With a Couple of Shapeshifters

by minnemouse_BEANS



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Multi, dragonshifter!percy, foxshifter!annabeth, i think i did alright?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnemouse_BEANS/pseuds/minnemouse_BEANS
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Annabeth Chase/Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Rachel**

So Rachel was fucking humiliated. She was sitting on her apartment building’s rooftop, sobbing, because she just felt so damn embarrassed. 

Her boyfriend had told her, in public, mind you, that she needed to drop, like, fifty pounds because fat women were “unattractive,” and he was “embarrassed to be seen with her.” 

What made it worse was that her asshole roommate (who she’d thought was her friend and was now thankful to have moving out in the next few days) had agreed with him. She’d said that it was embarrassing to be seen with someone who doesn’t care about themselves.

Sure, she was fat and she knew it. In fact, she even preferred people say the word “fat” when describing her body, as opposed to some of the other words people often used. If “skinny” wasn’t a bad word, then in her eyes, neither was “fat.” 

She also wasn’t particularly ashamed of her weight, she liked her body, and she liked owning it and feeling comfortable in her skin. That was probably why being called ugly by the guy she’d been dating for three months, and being told she needed to lose weight hurt so much. 

So she was sitting on her rooftop, feeling pathetic and stupid, when someone sat down next to her. 

She glanced over, and then did a double take, wiping her tears away quickly.

The _Riptide_ was sitting next to her, resting his arms on his bent knees.

She started to scramble away because that guy wasn’t one of the “good guys,” when he spoke. “Yo,” he said. “It’s cold up here, why ya sittin’ up here instead of somewhere comfortable?” He had a deep, kinda raspy voice.

_Eh, fuck it,_ she thought, and explained about her night so far.  
“Well shit,” he said casually. “I know how you can lose a fuckton of extra weight fast. Drop both of them. You’ll feel _a lot_ better, too.” 

She found herself laughing. “Oh, I intend to.” 

“Good.”

She found herself asking, “What are you doing up here, anyway.”

“I sit up on buildings like this a lot. I’m pretty tolerant to heat and cold, and it’s some nice peace and quiet.” 

“It is kinda nice up here, if you don’t mind being up high,” she observed, as it was a ten-story building. She didn’t bother asking _how_ he got up there. Most superheroes and supervillains had their ways of getting places they wanted to go. She had _long-since_ stopped questioning it. 

“The weather’s kinda a bitch,” she said finally. It was, in fact, far too cold for her t-shirt and thin pajama shorts. It was with that that she went inside, roommate be damned. 

The next night she found herself sitting on the rooftop again in warmer clothes and with a blanket. She’d brought some McDonald’s up, enough to share, and sat down with her sketch pad and began drawing her surroundings by the light of the lantern she’d brought up. 

Riptide sat down next to not long thereafter. She offered him the burger and he accepted, getting up and moving behind her to eat it without revealing his face. That was fair enough. The whole point of the mask was anonymity. 

He sat back down next to her. “You’re more prepared this time,” he told her, sounding bemused. 

“My roommate is still here, and I don’t feel like spending time with her. I’m getting the locks changed when she moves out.” 

He sat back on his hands, and it occurred to her that he didn’t have the body of a comicbook character. He wasn’t muscles everywhere, but rather the easy strength of a man who used his body regularly. He was pretty tall, though, like six-four.

The getup he wore, a black and dark blue thing that left not an inch of skin exposed and had a bright green sword design on the chest, was tight, likely to prevent clothes from getting in his way or being grabbed. It however, wasn’t designed to show off every muscle like those costumes you saw in the comics. Rachel could figure that one out, too. He needed to be able to move and operate, and he couldn’t do that in a costume that stuck to him that tightly. 

Rachel had the extreme urge to break him down into shapes and draw him, she guessed because she was still in Art Mode. 

“Whatcha doin?” he asked, using the same tone Isabella always used in Phineas and Ferb. 

“Thinking about stylized supers,” she responded. “It always freaked me out how tightly those costumes get drawn.” 

He snorted. “It looks fuckin’ uncomfortable,” he told her plainly. “My friend found himself dressing up as Superman once. He’s a fairly ripped guy, and he _still_ needed the padding to be able to do Clark Kent justice.”

“Oof.” 

They didn’t talk much after that. After that, they were two people from _incredibly_ different walks of life sitting on a roof. 

Rachel _probably_ should have called the police the first time he’d sat with her. Rachel probably shouldn’t have fed him. She probably shouldn’t have given him her sketch. She definitely shouldn’t have chatted with him. 

But the thing was, everyone needed rest. Someone else would come along. Someone else would call the police or something on him. And, hey, if he was sitting there with her, he wasn’t doing anyone any harm, right? 

That’s what she told herself as days of doing this became weeks and, eventually, months. As feeding him became a habit. As she started expecting him at certain times in the day. 

Seven months passed. 

The White Fox marched over as Riptide began to rejoin her after finishing a Thermos of soup. 

“Fuck off, _smart-ass_ ,” Riptide, who’d told her to start referring to him as Alec, though, he said, it wasn’t his real name, said. “Get your own damn rooftop.” 

“Oh, _please_ ,” White Fox responded. She had a voice a little like Astrid from How to Train Your Dragon, “I have things of import to do. Unlike you, evidently, given how you’re _harassing_ this woman here.”

“To be fair,” Rachel responded, “he isn’t. In fact, I gave him soup.” 

“On of the most well known criminals of New York, and you gave him _soup?_ ” White Fox sounded absolutely incredulous, though Rachel couldn’t see face, as she had a mask on as well. Her getup was white with a red fox emblem on the chest and red details on the face. She was tiny, unlike how Rachel always thought of her whenever she saw her on TV. About five-two and built like a gymnast.

“Yep,” Alec agreed. “Good soup, too. I like that soup. Broccoli cheese soup. Now, will you _fuck off?_ I’m having a nice night.” 

“Alright, fine, I actually _don’t_ feel like fighting, and I don’t really have anything for y-” White Fox started. “Hold on, did you say _broccoli cheese soup?_ ” 

“Sure,” Rachel responded. “Would you like a Thermos?”

So Rachel gave White Fox a soup Thermos. 

After that, it became pretty commonplace for one of them to pop up, and eventually, Rachel started letting them in her apartment, telling them that they could come on in whenever.

Rachel’s sorta became neutral territory for Alec and White Fox, who had told Rachel to call her Sophie, they still bickered, sure, but they didn’t fight or try anything, and they mostly avoided eachother. 

Rachel figured that a friend and a no-questions-asked place to deal with wounds, catch a nap, or get a meal were more valuable than whatever feud those two had. 

Sophie had told her once that Rachel’s place had definitely improved her life. It served as a good place to rest where people wouldn’t begin to associate her civilian identity with her hero identity. 

Alec and Sophie didn’t like eachother, but that was okay. They were civil enough with eachother that Rachel didn’t worry about having to replace something. 

One day, two years into the system had been put into place Rachel had been making her famous broccoli cheese soup, a fan favorite, when she got a _knock at the door._


	2. chapter two

**Percy**

Percy had begun to just let himself into Rachel’s apartment via the fireescape, as had Sophie (yes, he’d taken to calling her that to, it sounded  _ far _ less stupid than calling her White Fox all the time). 

When he walked in, he immediately knew  _ something _ was wrong. The apartment smelled like burnt broccoli cheese soup and the remnants of a fight. His nose was  _ sharp.  _

He walked in and saw Sophie staring at the mess of the foyer. 

“What the  _ fuck _ did you do?” Percy questioned accusingly.  _ Just _ because he’d begun to find her more tolerable, and even helpful, given that they had begun to exchange intel, did not mean he liked her or trusted her. 

“Oh, you think  _ I  _ did  _ this?!” _ she questioned in response, “Or are  _ you  _ trying to cover  _ your  _ own tracks?”

Percy was almost offended. Sure, he was a “bad guy,” but he didn’t betray his people. Annabeth wouldn’t be close enough to him to know that, however. So, in response he said, “Why,  _ pray tell,  _ would I do this?” 

“You’re the supervillian here,” she told him.  _ Fair enough _ . “And you accused me.” 

“You’re standing in the mess, Sophie.” He sighed and ran his hands over the top of his head. “So if you didn’t do it, and I didn’t do it, then what in hell happened here?”

“Something bad.” She glanced around and asked the question he dreaded,  _ “Do you think it’s because of us?”  _

Okay, full disclosure, Percy had begun to fall for Rachel. Like, a lot. And everyone knew what happened to supers and their normal loved ones. He’d been planning out how to cut contact for weeks without hurting her. He didn’t want that to happen.  _ Not again.  _

And now, he realized, he should have just bailed when he’d first noticed the crush. Now someone had taken another person from him, and given what had happened, he was dubious that this could end any flavor of “well.” 

“Okay,” Annabeth’s voice had changed from hot, wet anger and fear to that cold, dry kind of anger that told you that the person you were talking to was furious beyond shouts or yells. It was  _ far  _ more terrifying. “We need to begin working on figuring out what happened and where they took her. While we’re doing that, we should clean up. One of the neighbors called the police and I used the ‘I’m a superhero’ card to gain control over what happens here.” 

“Once that is done, we should pack some supplies and head out,” Percy agreed. His voice took on a similar tone to Annabeth’s, and he was just itching to take his other form and just  _ go,  _ but that would be dumb. “I’m  _ not _ a hero, Sophie. Just to be clear. If you work with me on this, a couple people will probably lose their heads.” 

Annabeth snorted. “I’m not working, Water Boy, I’m just wearin’ the uniform. I can live with that.” 

“Let’s get to it.” 

So, they scoured the area, doing what they could to right the foyer, and then they scoured the rest of the apartment top to bottom. 

Percy was beginning to worry when Annabeth found something she did not like. 

“This is the emblem of the mercenaries my boss likes to use with us sometimes,” Annabeth said, holding up a lanyard. “Whole bunch of stuck-up  _ pricks. _ The name is phony, and there’s a reason there’s no photo.  _ However, _ this means that this is definitely directed at you as my boss already knows who I am and has a far less round-a-bout way of getting anything from me.” 

“You’re certain your boss is our culprit?” Percy asked incredulously. It occurred to Percy that that was the first time he’d ever heard her swear.

“Unfortunately. These people only sell their services to a select few people,” Annabeth said on a sigh. “Either my boss has paid for this or he permitted this. The former is more likely, given that those others don’t much care about what happens here.” She paused. Percy couldn’t see her facial expression (duh) but she didn’t look happy. “Something is _ wrong, _ though. This is not standard procedure.” 

“I’m lost,” Percy admitted.

“There’s a standard procedure for the hero organization.” Annabeth turned the lanyard over in her hands, standing up from her crouched position to look him in the face better. He was still, like, a foot taller than her. “The idea is that while in uniform, we keep our noses and our hands clean. We wear uniforms colored in the colors of ‘good.’ So, often enough, enough that not even bothering to bring it up with anyone official or ask permission, we start swapping intel with the less villainous villains. Usually we mask it in fights, some people get creative. Some people befriend the villains. So on and so forth.” She took a breath. “These less villainous villains typically don’t get messed with beyond what’s needed for showmanship.” Percy had figured out a while ago that Annabeth hadn’t been trying  _ too _ hard to catch him. He didn’t know that was encouraged. “That’s because  _ a) _ you usually get the job done faster and more permanently than us, and  _ b) _ you can usually get places we can’t and get info on worse people. If you’re willing to help us, our very-high higher-ups say, _ ‘Sure let them rob a couple of stores. They were large chain stores anyway, they’ll be okay.’ _ ” 

“Effectively, so long as I’m not too much of a douche, I don’t have to worry about getting cracked down on, because I kill the right people and destroy the right buildings?” Percy wasn’t quite sure if he was annoyed at that or not.

“Yeah, the term for folks like you on my side of the fence is  _ ‘unpaid hero.’ _ You’re ultimately helping us, so you get to do as you please.” She looked back down at the lanyard again. “So this makes no sense. You and I don’t get along, but you’re not actually a nuisance that needs dealing with. And if you were, there are ways of handling that that don’t get bystanders caught up.” She was always moving, a hand or swaying or something. A little like him. But in that second, she went absolutely  _ still. _ “And this is too sloppily done. I shouldn’t have been able to tell who’s responsible.”

“Trap?” Percy asked. He didn’t think he needed to. 

_ “Trap.”  _


End file.
